He paused as if he realized something. “Except technically Lothaire’s. Talk about daddy issues.”
John howled with laughter.
I shoved a pillow over his head and tried to suffocate him, but he wrestled it out of my hands as he kept laughing.
Rude.
No, I didn’t want a man to call me baby girl. Gag. But that didn’t mean a man wouldn’t want to call me baby girl. The distinction mattered.
I bristled.
Was he implying no one would ever want me?
John didn’t know about the scar Mother had carved into my back, so he had no reason to think I’d die a virgin.
Insecurity unfurled in my gut as I mumbled, “You don’t have to be mean about it.”
I shuffled backward on the narrow bed to put space between us.
“What?” John stopped laughing and stared at me with confusion.
I said under my breath, “Some man might be into me someday. It’s not that funny.”
“Wait.” John scooted closer, and his size overwhelmed my small bed. “You think I’m laughing at the idea of a guy being into you?”
Why was it suddenly so hard to speak?
“Aran,” he said slowly.
The strange gleam in his dark eyes made my stomach swoop, and I blurted out, “Do you hate me now that you know I’m really a woman?”
His expression darkened. “I loathe you.”
An awkward moment passed.
He glared.
Talk about whiplash.
Had Mr. Hyde returned? John didn’t switch personalities on a whim; it was more of a couple of days of John being a brooding psycho kind of thing, then he was super smiley and back to normal.
I couldn’t figure it out.
“Just kidding, you dumb cunt.” John showed off his white teeth and slapped me on the arm with all his strength.
Thank the sun god.
At least some things never changed.
I rubbed at my throbbing arm. “You know, you don’t get to start calling me a cunt and bitch now that you know I’m a woman.”
“Okay, slut.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and prayed for a different life, new friends, and a scrap of mental health.
I opened my eyes.
John made a breast motion with his hands over his chest, and he wiggled his eyebrows at me.
Never mind—death to all men.
Chapter 7
Aran
LOYALTY
The beginning: Shackles—Day 5, hour 3
“You’re disgusting,” I groaned.
John’s powerful thighs took up the width of my bed as he knelt before me, making indecent gestures.
He raked a hand through his messy brown hair and smirked. He was clearly still Dr. Jekyll. Thank the sun god.
Then he punched me in the middle of my chest.
My heart temporarily flatlined, and I yelped as I fell backward.
John moved quickly and straddled my hips, the heat from his crotch burning where it pressed against my stomach.
His face hovered inches from mine.
“I’m your best friend,” he said, as his dark eyes glinted with an intense emotion. “You’re still the person I’ve trained and fought beside for months. Still the person I sat next to at meals. Still the weirdo who refuses to eat meat and chokes people in their sleep.” He stared at my mouth. “Never doubt that we’re besties.”
My heart burned with emotions.
It also burned from the giant hematoma on my sternum that his knuckles had caused.
“Okay,” I whispered.
John leaned closer and flashed a dimple. “Did I not promise you I’d dispose of a body if you asked me to?”
I sighed. “Yes. You did.”
His nose brushed against mine as he asked, “And did you not kill someone three days ago? Did I not dispose of them without asking questions?”
“You did,” I whispered. “I think? What actually happened to the body?”
Dark eyes glanced down at my lips. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
“Tell me.”
“Aran.” His lips hovered centimeters from mine, and I could taste his minty breath. “You can’t handle my secrets.”
“What do you mean?” I breathed into his mouth.
John straightened his wide shoulders and pulled away. “Don’t worry your cute little head.” He ruffled my curls aggressively. “My little depressed, angry Smurf.”
I forgot how to breathe.
He was kneeling atop me wantonly, but he was acting casual like it was perfectly acceptable for him to straddle me.
Was this normal friend behavior?
I’d always thought of John as a friend. The special kind that you snuggled in bed with and held on to for dear life as you drowned in the ocean for hours.
I’d grouped him in with Sadie, but there was a problem.
I was bizarrely aware of the fact that he wasn’t a woman; he was an extremely handsome six-foot-five supernatural assassin.
John was definitely treating me differently than he had when I was disguised as a boy.
There was an unfamiliar edge in his eyes.
The way he looked at me.
It made me squirm.
I cleared my throat and tried to appear relaxed. “You still haven’t told me what type of creature a Smurf is. Also, I’m almost your height, so I’m not little.”
I flexed my arms.
Sadie was short and petite. I was tall and strong, and there was nothing little about me.
John chuckled, and I felt the vibrations in my groin.
Pain streaked across my back with such intensity that I barely heard him say, “Please, I have half a foot on you. You’re girly and adorable with your big blue eyes and hair, a little Smurf princess.”
His hand was resting on my thigh, and he absentmindedly drew circles with his thumb.
The maroon rays of the eclipse wrapped around John in a hazy glow.
Everything took on a dreamlike quality.
Warm feelings of friendship were twisting in my lower gut and becoming something more.
Something dangerous.
Streaks of pain lit up my back where “WHORE” was carved into my skin.
Whatever was happening between us needed to stop.
“Actually.” I pivoted the conversation by flipping my hair over my shoulder and pretended to put lip gloss on with my middle finger. “It’s Queen. Why does everyone keep calling me Princess?”
John laughed as he punched me in the gut. “Calm down.”
The pivot worked.
I punched him back. Harder.
The weird tension between us dissipated as we beat the shit out of each other like we always did.
After a light spat of arm wrestling （fourteen rounds later, we were evenly tied）， John pinned me to the mattress and asked, “Did you really think I was going to treat you differently just because you’re a girl?”
My stomach flip-flopped.
I flexed and rolled so I was on top.
John punched me in the kidney and used my momentary shock to roll so he was once again hovering above me.
His eyes narrowed. “What type of misogynistic, close-minded jerk would hold the fact that you’re a girl against you? From what I’ve heard, you disguised yourself for a good fucking reason.”
I smiled widely at him, and he grinned back.
Everything with John was so simple.
He got it.
He understood.
Lately it felt like he was the only man who actually listened to me.
“Excuse me?” Malum growled roughly, and his deep baritone voice sent goose bumps down my spine. “Why are you on top of Arabella?”